


Darkness Inside

by pkabyssinian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, The Darkness is 12, but I'm not, i wanna be ashamed of myself, just kissing really, mentions of Dean/Sam, nothing too bad, spoilers for our little world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pkabyssinian/pseuds/pkabyssinian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Expanding on the episode "Our Little World" because I have to touch things that aren't mine.</p><p>This sprang forth from Amara's line: "You were the first thing I saw when I was freed and it had been so long. Maybe that’s it, my first experience of His creation. You can’t help but represent that for me, the sweet triumph and the even sweeter folly of what He’s wrought."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness Inside

No one understands her need to grow up.  She is stuck in this body, this human body, that is full of decay and death and she wants to hate it.  She wants to peel it off and be rid of it.  She wants to be what she remembered she was – everything, everywhere, darkness.

  Yes.  That was her.  She’s always been female, but she used to be vast, she used to be terrifying. But she'd also been beautiful and fecund and amazing.  In the days before Creation, she was the only thing that had existed.  She’d been aware, conscious, but not awake.  That hadn’t come until later.  She was so alone for so long that she didn’t even know what loneliness was, how could she?  There were no concepts or feelings or even thoughts back then.  Just her.  Just her darkness. 

Then, strangely, she noticed something glowing and golden at the heart of her.  Her longing for more, for something other than herself, had created a shining egg that gave off the opposite of herself.  It was bright and lovely and it showed off the myriad of colors that her darkness was made of.  This light, this ball of glowing difference she nurtured until it became her brother, her opposite.  She loved it, this creature of light and masculinity. His form was haloed by light just as hers was wreathed in dark. They were perfect foils for each other.

The Light, though, he knew she had created him. He knew she had somehow made him and it rankled.  He wanted more, like a greedy spoiled child he wanted everything.   Darkness didn't care, it didn't matter to her if he wanted to pretend to be the king of the nothingness that surrounded them. She was content being awake and having company.

Oh, how she had laughed when he told her he had named himself. The shivering sound of her laughter had rung through the endless night of herself creating tiny pinpoints of light. Starstuff that she gave to Light to create his toys. She didn't understand that he saw her indulgence as an insult. He hoarded his brilliance and turned away from her.  He hid in a corner of her night and made little worlds, little creatures to amuse himself with.

The hosts of winged creatures Light made were tiny extensions of himself, full of light and crystalline splendor.  He created pale marble halls for them that he called heavens, for them to live in and worship the Light.  They had no will but his, no thought but his, no words but his. It angered him, they were like him yet unlike. They had no fire, even though they were made from celestial fire. So he began to experiment with clay, creating crude forms that mimicked life but, still, he was dissatisfied.

In order to help, Darkness imbued his savage creations, his clay people, with will. They began to move on their own, to breathe, eventually they began to craft their own language.  Their first words revered the night, the plentiful and beautiful darkness.

Light, or YHWH as he called himself, was beside himself with rage. How dare she interfere, how dare she influence them to sing her name?  In a fit of disgust YHWH made the seas rise and rained fire from the sky, destroying the little proto-people and their rudimentary civilization. In no uncertain terms, YHWH forbade Darkness from his work, he wanted nothing of _her_ in his masterpiece. 

Oh, his hubris!  It amused her, she was so indulgent with him and turned away from his little corner. Now that there was light in the dark there was so much to explore, so much to see.  She was happy discovering all that was hidden, leaving YHWH to his great work.  He didn't understand what made him different from the little beings he was making. She thought she’d let him fail a little while longer then tell him the secret – it might sweeten his mood.

What she didn't understand was that her secret wasn't something he could partake of or even comprehend. YHWH couldn't share power, he knew what it was to be a fragment, a figment and it made him hoard his power to himself.  So he learned what sacrifice was, he learned was theft was, and he was determined to never sacrifice part of himself for things that would always be lesser.

Then, then came the great betrayal.  When YHWH had learned enough with his experiments and he knew what to do. He expended just enough of himself to capture the Darkness, to seal her away and use her energy and power to fuel his newest creation. A tiny blue and green pebble that he fashioned little people for and he imbued them and their rock with her essence.  He stole everything that made her, ripped it from her and shoved it ruthlessly into what he had made. There was no finesse, no craftsmanship, just violence and blood and bone.

She was trapped, it taught her how to hate. It taught her was true darkness was.  Yet she was patient, after all, she had all of eternity. She knew that YHWH had no patience and no true love for his little terrarium. Eventually he would forget to care for it and it would take on a life of its own. A life that had, just a touch, of darkness in it. 

She waited.  She watched. She mourned for the little people calling out to their God, calling in vain. YHWH had wanted small beings to worship and to love him. He created a specter of her dark to frighten his children with. Created a hell in which to store his dark king, to show his babies that YHWH cared. He wouldn't let the dark eat them. Oh, how cunningly he had learned how to lie.

So, really, he shouldn't have been surprised when his little ones followed in his footsteps. They lied, cheated, murdered, stole, oppressed, and fucked; all in His name. You would think he'd be proud that they did all of this of their own volition. Well, almost on their own.

The tiny bit of Darkness that was in each and every bit of YHWH’s creation taught these rude mortals, taught them how to hate. How to be sly. How to search for something other than God. She watched over it all, long after YHWH had abandoned his earth to play with other toys. She could do nothing but watch, trapped as she was to the spinning rock. 

There was nothing here that was beautiful. Nothing worthy of praise. These humans were too like their creator, too obsessed with dominating each other and the very planet that housed them. Bits of her leaked out, became distorted and twisted, creating the first monsters. Which gave rise to the first Hunters.

Oh, how she hated Hunters!  Vile beasts that took her name in vain, that called her inky blankness evil. They didn't know what true evil was, they didn't even know that without her they would never have existed. Which made her hate turn inward, eating at herself until she was filled with nothing but rage and loathing. From humans she learned self-hatred and self-recrimination. How could she ever have desired to create something opposite of her?  How could she have longed for light when this was how it would end?  It would have been far better for her never to have become aware!

But survival instincts are strong and after millennia she turned that hatred outward. She would, eventually, be free. And when she was she would destroy all that YHWH had worked so hard on. She would tear it down, atom by atom, until nothing was left but her beautiful, silent darkness. No more light. No more noise. No more.

Finally, something changed.  Her cage of blood and bone, the apostate Cain, was growing weary of his burden.  It was boring being hidden away from the world without the pleasure of violence.  Cain tried to teach her what love was, what it meant to ignore the bloodlust for a higher purpose.   How she pushed at her cage, she wanted what little freedom she could get.  All she knew was it was being denied her.  Stronger she grew and yet still she could not break him. 

Then came a man, he was flawed but beautiful.  Full of wrath and rage and ready to kill, to spill blood for no other reason than it was there to be spilt.  Cain didn’t want to pass the Mark on, he wanted to abolish it, but Cain didn’t know what the Mark truly was.  He didn’t know that the Mark was her, the Darkness.  Older than YHWH, older than Creation, she was everything.  Men, following in their maker’s footsteps feared her. But this man, there was something about him that caught Cain’s attention, something that called to the darkness in Cain. 

Darkness began to whisper then, _give me to him_.  Cain was uncertain, so she whispered, _test him_.  Cain did and found that this man, this Hunter was worthy.   He listened to the Hunter’s story, how he wanted to use the Mark and the First Blade to do good in the world.  To kill an ancient evil, a Knight of Hell.  This man had a brother, much like Cain had, a brother who believed in the man and would help to keep him on the side of good, on the side of light.

 _Give me to him and you can rest,_ Darkness promised Cain.  She exerted all of the influence she had built up, she made the Mark burn and ache, she made Cain’s skin feel too tight, his heart beat too fast.  A mere mortal and a Hunter, how could he stand against her?  She would have free reign in him. 

Finally, finally Cain gave in and transferred the Mark to the human.  What she thought would be an easy take over became a struggle of wills.  The man, Dean, refused her at every turn.  Rarely could she turn the bloodlust against him and slaughter.  He held her so tightly, it was like Dean was trying to strangle her.  She lashed out in hatred and pain, all she wanted was freedom!  Was that so wrong?

When Dean’s will would falter, there was Sam to call him back from the edge.  When Dean was losing his grip on himself, there was Castiel to shed heavenly grace on him.  Oh, Castiel she hated most of all!  One of YHWH’s winged children, his creatures of fire.  This one though, instead of singing YHWH’s praises… this one loved the mortal Dean.  How strange. 

Darkness searched through Dean, looking for his weaknesses.  Eating through his defenses, combing through his memories, doing her best to weaken him.  Doing her best to impose her will on this one, small, insignificant, petty, hated human.  Yet, consistently, Dean surprised her.  His anger was tempered by the love he bore his brother.  His self-hatred was blunted by the love of the angel.  Darkness could find no true purchase in him.

Then death came for Dean.  Darkness was ready, she knew his time was short and the love of one inconsequential brother wouldn’t save Dean.  Soon Dean’s mortal spark burned out and she gathered him into herself.  She curled around the last bit of Dean and sang softly to him.  She promised to hold him tight within herself until the time that she could be free, then she would let the tattered remnants of Dean’s soul move on to where all souls went.  They went to her, it was her essence broken into tiny pieces that animated these foolish animals.  They were unique because of her.  How that must have burned YHWH to know that.  No wonder he deserted them.

Yet once again she was foiled.  Crowley, the self-crowned King of Hell animated Dean with one of his demons and this pseudo-Dean was enough for Sam and Castiel to save the real Dean from the darkness.  Frustration boiled within her, to always be so close and yet…

She began to speak to Dean, she whispered soft words to him.  She stoked his will, _look for a way to divest yourself of the Mark_.  Once she understood that Dean desired his freedom as much as she desired hers, why, it was easy to turn him to her cause. As she worked with Dean she realized that he had more in common with her than she initially thought.  He, too, harbored hatred toward YHWH.    He, too, knew loss and betrayal.  Dean knew little beyond anger, loathing, and hatred.  The only bright spot in his life were his brother and his angel. 

Darkness felt herself softening toward Dean.  There was so much about him that she understood, his pain and his courage and his drive.  It would be a shame to have to destroy him with the rest of YHWH’s world.  But, maybe, not all of this pebble needed to be exterminated.  Perhaps there was something else she could do… 

In the end, it was almost anti-climactic for her.  Her freedom came and she billowed outward, staining the sky black as she was at long last freed from her prison.  Now she would be able to see Dean, to thank him for freeing her, to see the flesh cage that held her.

Darkness gazed upon Dean Winchester and she felt everything else fall away from her.  This was her first look at the hairless beasts that YHWH had created, her first view of something that YHWH created that wasn’t filtered through her the eyes of her prison.  He was beautiful.  She could see the bit of her that was in him that made Dean shine with a dark light.  Then she focused on his outer form and understood desire.  He was immaculately sculpted, surely this was the angel’s doing?  When Castiel dragged Dean out of hell he must have remade Dean’s outer shell to match the shining halls of heaven.  But no, there was nothing in Dean that resonated with the starstuff of heaven.  Just his own fragile mortality.

If YHWH could create this, then yes, Darkness could see the use of this rock.  Instead of eating this world, instead of rending it… perhaps she could rebuild it.  Rebuild it in Dean’s image.  Make it a world where Dean wouldn’t have to suffer, where he could rest.  She sees, in flashes and premonitions, all Dean has gone through, all he will go through.  For a moment she is fiercely glad that this human caged her, that he held her closer to him than any other.  Then her joy at freedom overtakes her and she can bear no longer to stay here.

She leaves Dean then, leaves after taking time to speak with him.  They will be forever bound together.  She was closer to him than his own heart, his own blood.  She has run lambent through his entire system, the physicality and metaphysicality of him.  She is more a part of him than his own soul, even though his spirit-self was born of her.  She is vast and vastly powerful again.  She is primal and elemental and wild and once again free!

It takes only a moment for the Darkness to realize that perfect symmetry that YHWH built into this creation of his.  It is made of mortals and only mortals can affect it.  If angels or demons or gods or spirits want to change this world, they must be of it and clothe themselves in mortal flesh.  The angels and demons call them, with distain, meatsuits.  But the Darkness sees the splendor of it, how it binds the will to the world in a way that is both grotesque and marvelous.

So she searches a body.  There is no one, no human, that would willingly accept her into them.  So she slips to and fro looking for a body that can hold her, one that will be hers alone so it won’t be such a prison.  Then she can change this world, make it better, make it shine the way it should.  Eventually her search finds a woman, her swollen belly rippling with contractions.  It is messy and the woman screams in pain trying to force life out into the world.  Poor mother, little does she know that her infant will be still born, it’s little soul already long gone from the tiny body.

But the heart still beats, the mother’s body keeps the infant existing but soon it will be expelled and then it will die.  There is just enough room between birth and death for Darkness to slip in. 

It’s hard to situate herself in this body.  Nothing seems to work right, she’s blind, and this body can’t obey her commands.  She is intensely hungry and wants to screech her unhappiness to the world, but all she can manage is a soft mewling cry that is easily ignored.  Then, she feels it, the soulspark of Dean Winchester.  It’s like he’s drawn to her and the Darkness settles.  No matter her form, she will always recognize Dean.  He is her constant, her lodestone, her pole star. 

The humans name her Amara, it’s as good a name as any.  It grounds her in this body, allows her to manipulate it better.  She’s still so hungry and manages to gain enough strength to devour the soul of the woman who took her away from Dean.  It fills her, the graceful light of the soul, and she grows stronger for taking back part of herself.  But she’s still so voracious, she needs more.  She needs to rid herself of this infant body.

Being a toddler is just as frustrating and when Crowley appears with more souls for her, Darkness follows him.  He thinks to use her to bring about Hell on earth and she needs his resources.  For now. 

She studies this planet, learns its history, discovers what makes it wonderful and special, she learns how it is full of malice and a terrible awfulness.  She sees how YHWH’s taint is everywhere, she wonders if she can truly make this world a better place.  Crowley is making her doubt herself, perhaps there is nothing here to salvage.  She wanders, acting like a lost little girl and encounters children her age.  Her assumed age.  These children are lost and uncaring.  Darkness finds that she doesn’t want to help these vacuous beings that populate the world.  They disgust her and she pulls their souls from them, careless of havoc they’ll wreak in her absence.

Just as she is about to lose patience, she feels it.  Dean Winchester is near.  Amara hides herself and watches from afar, she wants to see how Dean will deal the soulless she has left behind.  She expects him to be brutal, to destroy the empty bodies as he searches for her.  Of course he seeks her, he needs her just as she needs him.  She feels something then, a stirring in her breast. 

As she watches, Dean tries to help the lost ones.  He does the opposite of what she expects; he shows compassion to the monsters she created.  Darkness doesn’t understand it, from what she’s learned and what she knows – hunters are killers.  Hunters are cruel and capricious and their hunts always end in death. 

She wants so badly to reach out, to touch Dean.  Her fingertips ache to touch his physical form.  Her breath catches in her throat when she sees him.  He wholly and utterly captivates her.  What if he doesn’t feel the same magnetic pull towards her?  What if he can ignore the throbbing in his blood that draws him to her?  If he could turn away from her, Darkness thinks she would shatter into a million pieces.

Darkness regains her patience; she waits expectantly in the building that Crowley has befouled.  She sits, content to glean as much as she can from the internet.  She reads histories, and fantasies, and true fictions.  She finds romances and can’t decide if she likes them or not.  The talk of heat and slickness and joining… it seems barbaric.  But then she thinks of Dean and perhaps, perhaps it isn’t as bad as it sounds.  Perhaps it would be pleasurable to do those things.

She can feel him drawing closer, she can feel the brightness and the lightness that Dean brings.  Before she knows it he’s in front of her again and she can feel his determination and anger radiating off of him like waves of heat and desire.  Killing and fucking are all caught up in each other with Dean, he is a man of distinct and many passions the Darkness wants to drink it all in. 

With joy shivering up and down her spine she toys with Dean, lets him work himself up to try and stab her with his little enchanted knife.  She loves how he looks with the blade, so dangerous.  She thinks, if she were male, she would want to be like Dean.  His own inner darkness spills out of his eyes, all the guilt and hatred he has for himself.  He sees her as a little girl and she widens her eyes, parts her glossed lips, and plays up her non-existent innocence.

There is no doubt, Dean can’t psyche himself up enough to attack her.  She’s waiting for him to realize that as she plays up her youth.  It’s working perfectly then Crowley has to arrive and ruin it!  Crowley has Dean pinned, the King of Hell thinks he’s doing her a favor by stopping Dean.  But then Crowley talks of _killing_ Dean.  Of stopping Dean’s beating heart with the demon killing knife. That is unacceptable and the Darkness drops her innocent child act and claims her birthright power.

As she re-negotiates her deal with Crowley, the Darkness can feel Dean’s eyes on her.  She revels in his attention, in knowing that she has Dean Winchester captivated.  She hears his breath hitch, his scent changes, and if she strains she can hear the tripping beat of his heart.  Dean feels the same!  Knowing this, it makes her crueler with Crowley.  How dare he have the temerity to rob this world of Dean?  How dare Crowley assume that he could take what is hers?

With Crowley dispatched, the Darkness turns to Dean.  She knows this body is too young for him, she knows that he won’t want her like this.  Suddenly he’s so close, she isn’t sure who moved toward whom, just that he’s here.  He’s so close she can touch him, his presence is intoxicating and she whispers her truth to him.

“You were the first thing I saw when I was freed and it had been so long. Maybe that’s it, my first experience of His creation. You can’t help but represent that for me, the sweet triumph and the even sweeter folly of what He’s wrought,” she tells him.  The words strike at Dean, he leans toward her, towering over her.  The Darkness thinks it should feel threatening, he’s still holding the knife after all, but she feels so safe.

She turns her eyes up to Dean, catches his gaze and suddenly there is a charge there, and electricity that crackles over her skin.  She sees his lips part, like he’s going to say something, but Dean remains silent.  His mouth is so lush, so perfect. 

The Darkness can’t help herself, she reaches out.  She had wanted Dean to touch her first, to not be repulsed by this body but her control is so much less around him.  Her fingers stroke down his hand, the one gripping the knife.  She can feel the fine tremor there and his breath leaves him in a long drawn out shudder.  His grip on the knife spasms tighter and she can feel the violence contained with Dean.  It excites her.

Sam is coming, he’ll be here soon looking for Dean.  For Sam, Dean might try to harm her.  For Sam, Dean would do anything.  She remembers from her time trapped within Dean how far he would go for his brother.  She knows how Dean really feels about Sam, how he tries to hide from it.

Amara goes up on her tip-toes and leans forward so she can murmur into Dean’s ear.

“I know how you feel about Sam.  I can create a world where that’s acceptable, where you can be happy.”

Dean shudders again, his eyes closing as if her words have hurt him.  The Darkness leans closer, she places one small hand on Dean’s wrist to steady herself, her breath is ghosting over Dean’s ear.

“I’m not sure if I can share you, though,” she confesses so softly that the words are barely formed.  She wants to make Dean happy but she also wants to make him hers.

There’s a clatter as the knife falls to the floor, unheeded.  Dean’s eyes are open again and they are full of something that the Darkness has no name for.  He grabs her upper arms in a crushing grip and gives her one hard shake, the ringlets in her hair bounce around her face making it hard to see his expression.  His hold is hurting her, just a little, but it adds to the desire he’s kindled in her.  She looks at him coquettishly and his eyes darken.

Before she knows what’s happening Dean is kissing her.  His mouth is slanting over her and it’s just as hard and bruising as his hands.  The Darkness moans as she goes limp, she’d fall if he weren’t holding her.  He’s invading her senses, she’s drowning, instinctively she reaches out and her hands scramble at his leather jacket.  Her mouth opens and the kiss goes from brutal to gentle, Dean makes it seductive and addicting and the Darkness knows she’s lost.

He pulls away from her and the Darkness feels cast adrift.  At some point she had closed her eyes and forces them open.  She has to see him, has to know if he is affected as she is.  Dean’s glare is still harsh but there is a set to his mouth that lets her know he feels the same draw that she does.  She lifts one hand and traces the shape of his lips that are still slick with their spit.  The Darkness licks her lips, tasting Dean there, and he watches her with hooded eyes. 

“I told you there would always be a bond between us.  Now there’s more.  I know you don’t really want me like this, as a child.  But I will take you any way I can get you, Dean Winchester.  You belong to me, but I think I might belong to you as well,” she says lowly.  She stretches her arms upward and entwines them around his neck.  It brings her body flush with his and she pulls his head down in another kiss.

It’s just as electric as the first one, but Dean has better control over himself this time.  She can tell, he’s using the tricks he knows to make it good and she can feel his body reacting.  Even though she is so young, he desires her.  She can feel his thick tumescence against her belly and it makes her squirm.  That, in turn, has Dean trying not to rut his hips into her.  It’s glorious, the desire blazes through her and leaves her feeling weak and breathless.  She has done this to Dean.  He wants her, right now, he wants the Darkness.

She wants to be brave, she wants to slide one of her hands down and cup his erection, to feel it under her soft fingers.  The Darkness breaks the kiss and lets her hand trail downward until she can press her palm against him and Dean groans, his breath coming a little faster, his eyes fixed on her face.

Without warning there is a loud bang of something large hitting the wood and iron door to her room.  Sam.  Of course.  The Darkness squeezes Dean’s erection one more time before stepping back.  It takes all of her willpower to do so, but there is a better time for this.  A better place.  When she gives herself to Dean, and she will, it must be perfect. 

He reaches out, with one finger he traces her cheek bone and she smiles beatifically at him.

“We’re gonna meet again, aren’t we?” he asks her, his voice deeper.

The Darkness nods.  Dean watches her intently and she finds herself blushing.

Soon the wooden door gives way to an angry Sam Winchester who, of course, charges at the Darkness.  With a flick of her power she smashes Sam away from her, hard enough to hurt him but not hard enough to kill.  Dean wants Sam, wants him whole and unharmed.  She can leave him that way, well mostly unharmed at least, for now. 

Poor Dean, he sees Sam in danger and he has to act.  He leaps at her and the Darkness isn’t sure what Dean’s true intentions are towards her.  She flicks him away with her power as well, Dean fights the oblivion that is dragging him down.  He has to make sure Sam is okay. The Darkness passes by Sam and walks away.

Now that she knows that Dean wants her, she can wait.  She can patient.  After all, she has all of eternity to keep Dean close to her.  Their union will be darkly glorious and all the world will be changed by it.  The Darkness smiles.  Yes.  Soon.


End file.
